Scars
by Azalea Rhoden
Summary: He stands in her doorway, silent and still as a statue, mouth ever so slightly agape, and stares at her, ocher eyes wide with surprise. No, with shock.
1. Chapter 1

1

* * *

Shirayuki yawned enormously and rubbed at her tired throbbing eyes with the backs of her hands. It had been another long day at the Lyrias pharmacy—longer, in fact, due to last minute preparations for an impending snowstorm—and she was more than ready to settle in for the night. Slowly shuffling across her room, she plants herself on the edge of her bed, running a comb through her apple red hair, still damp from a bath. She was already dressed in her thick winter nightgown, and once she finished with her hair she could finally sleep.  
She's halfway through braiding it when a sharp series of taps at the door interrupts her.

"Miss!" announces a familiar voice, "I brought the books you wanted!"

"Ah! Just a moment!" Shirayuki quickly secures the half-finished braid and wraps a heavy shawl around her shoulders.

"The snow's started," Obi informs her as she opens the door, the books securely wrapped against the elements and tucked beneath his arm. His nose and ears are pink from the cold and snowflakes dust his dark hair and coat, not yet melted by the warmth of the building.

"Has it?" Shirayuki glances over her left shoulder, toward the window. She hadn't noticed, but fluffy snowflakes flutter past, flashing in the lamplight of her room as they fall to the earth. Judging from the steep mound already crowding her windowsill, it must have started soon after she left the pharmacy building…

"Will you be all right going back to the fort, Obi?" It was a long walk from her room on Scholar's Street to the soldiers' quarters at the Checkpoint, even on a clear day.

Obi doesn't respond immediately with some witty quip or grinning reassurances that he can surely manage such a simple thing, goodness Miss, don't fret about me.  
Which is odd, for him.

"Obi?" She turns back to face him, a question in her emerald eyes.

He stands in her doorway, silent and still as a statue, mouth ever so slightly agape, and _stares_ at her, ocher eyes wide with surprise. No, with _shock_.

Obi's behavior puzzles her at first. Before she realizes _exactly_ what he's staring at. Shirayuki claps her hand over the side of her face.

Too late.

Too late to conceal it.

The scar.

The long, thin scar that started near the corner of her right eye and carved a canyon through her pale cheek.

" _Ah_ —This is—"

She knows it's stupid, even as she says it. He knows, what this is.

Obi blinks once, snapping himself away from the memories parading through his head. And then he turns, placing the parcel of books on a small table just inside the door.

"Obi, wait! I'll explain! _Obi_!" Shirayuki reaches for him with her left arm, right hand still clamped firmly over the scar.

But Obi walks away, without a word. Without a single sound at all.

She follows him out the door and into the hall, but he ignores her hushed calls. Obi finds the nearest window and leaps out into the street, vanishing into darkness and swirling snow.

Shirayuki stares after him, out into the frigid night, and curls her shaking hands into fists. Knocks them against her head. Once. Twice. Three times.

Stupid,  
stupid,  
 _stupid_ —!


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:** Wow, first of all I wanna say that I was absolutely floored by the response to chapter one - thank you! Second, yes, there is more! The plan is to update roughly once a week until it's done, so please bear with me! Thanks again for reading, and keep letting me know what you think!_

* * *

2

* * *

Obi wanders through the gently falling snow, not paying much attention to where his feet take him. He wanders through his memories, too—Tanbarun, and his failure. Miss kidnapped—despite that damn mountain monkey Mihaya's information about the pretty boy Kazuki—despite Master's urgent letter warning of the companion Itoya— _despite his own presence in the room_ **!  
** All it took was a split second of distraction.  
His fault. All his fault.

Miss forgave him, and so did Master, but that didn't mean he forgave himself. Or that he ever would. And seeing that wound again, after all this time?

Well.

It was no wonder Miss kept it covered. To be constantly reminded of those hellish days with each passing glance at a mirror, at a window...

Obi fusses absent mindedly with his scarf, exhaled breath forming a foggy haze around his head. He's stopped wandering and takes stock of his surroundings. The snow continues to fall, harder now—the trees mere blurs against the swirling white.

Ah.

This is the ridge where they watched the sun rise, after Little Ryu taught her to make the medicine for the Northern Flu. Ryu fell asleep before Miss finished the second batch, and Obi carried him to bed. And then they had come here, using the high paths normally reserved for the soldiers. And he told her then, that Master had made him a knight and sent him to be her attendant.  
That he would stay in Lyrias with her.

She had looked so marvelously happy, in the pre-dawn twilight.

Obi nimbly scales a tree, and makes himself comfortable. Or, at least as comfortable as he was going to get, perched carefully amongst the study branches of a dormant evergreen, back and head resting against rough bark, sheltering from the freezing midnight of a Northern winter snowstorm.

Miss kept the scar a secret, huh?  
That was her decision to make, but still...

He tugged his scarf up over his nose.


	3. Chapter 3

3

* * *

A noise snaps Obi out of his daze, the _crunch – crunch – crunch_ of someone stomping through the snow, not caring about the ruckus they made. It got close before he noticed. Much too close.  
He was distracted. Again.  
 _Damn_.

But then a small voice drifted up to the treetops. A familiar, if slightly out of breath voice.

"Obi?"

Of course Miss came to find him. Just like she had in Tanbarun.

"Obi, are you up here?" She waits several moments for a reply that doesn't come before calling out again, "Obi!"

She certainly was persistent. But –

"Obi, I _know_ you can hear me!" Frustration sharpened her tone to a fine point. " _O_ _bi_ _!_ "

He snorted. He couldn't help it. How many trees had she shouted _that_ at already?

She's silent for moment—sneezes twice, softens her voice— " _Please_ come down, I'll explain everything. Obi!"

An explanation, huh? What was there to explain? Still, if he didn't do something, she'd be outdoors yelling at trees until daybreak…

"Ob – "  
"Miss," he interrupts her with a resigned sigh, but keeps his perch in the evergreen, concealed by soundless snowfall and shadowy branches. He doesn't want to face her right now. He's not even sure that he can.

"Ah—I _knew_ you'd come here, Obi," Shirayuki crunches through the snow over to his tree and pauses—looking up, searching for him, obviously expecting him to come down and face her like he did in the mountains of Tanbarun. He doesn't. He keeps quiet too, the silence slowly stretching, an uncomfortable chasm.

"Um, well..." she stares down at her snow _-_ caked boots. Gingerly traces the scar's track across her cheek. Inhales.

"I'm sorry, Obi."

 _Why_?

"Huh?" she glances up, surprised, trying once more to locate his hiding place.

Damn, had he spoken aloud? He presses a hand to his mouth, just in case.

"...I," Shirayuki starts, and after a brief pause continues, "...after we got back to Clairnes, to the castle, I...started to cover it. I figured the scar would—that it would fade. Eventually. So until then..."  
Another pause.  
"But, it didn't. So I kept covering it up."

Why in the world was she apologizing to _him..._?

"I'm s _–_ sorry, that you found out like that."

...When the whole fiasco was _his_ fault in the first place!

"...It's been two years, Miss." _Damn_ , why did he say that, of all things? It sounded like he was trying to pick a fight.  
"Longer, even." Well, he certainly didn't want her _pity_.

"Y _–_ yeah," she stammers.

Damn it, don't _agree_ with me!

"I s _–_ should have told you a l _–_ long time ago."

And stop _apologizing_!

"I'm really s~s~orry."

There it was.  
Obi jumps down, landing silently in the snow. He spins around to face her, opens his mouth to speak—  
and freezes.

"Miss, what are you _wearing_?"

"Huh?"

Shirayuki clutches her now snow-dampened shawl tightly around her shivering shoulders, still dressed in her bedclothes, ice and snow clinging heavily to the hem of her nightgown. By some miracle she wore her boots, but the snow already overtopped them. Red hair—hair that was _still wet_ —escaped from the braid and hung in half-frozen tendrils around her rosy face. Her cheeks and ears and nose and fingers—all pink from the cold. And her teeth clatter together so violently, he's shocked he didn't notice it before.

Obi practically jumps out of his coat, quickly wrapping it around her.  
"Miss, it is the _middle_ of the _night_. It. Is. _Snowing_."

"I—I can s _–_ see that!" she protests, breath forming a cloud between them, blurring the details of his face.

Obi just stares at her, slack–jawed and incredulous, as his hands guide her shivering arms into coat sleeves.

"I was _worried_ about you, Obi!"

And her eyes widen, when his face suddenly draws near.

"Miss... _Seriously..._ "

Obi rests his forehead on her shoulder, defeated.


	4. Chapter 4

4

* * *

"You don't have to _carry_ me, Obi. I can _walk_ ," Shirayuki protests, trying to wriggle her way out of her knight's arms.

"Your boots are already full of snow, aren't they, Miss?" he responds dryly, clutching her closer to his chest. He somehow managed to convince her to keep wearing his coat, and as for carrying her, well. Simply picking her up and ignoring the resulting complaints worked well enough. But he needed to get her indoors—and _warm_ —as quickly as possible.

"Haha ha..." Shirayuki quietly laughs. Obi was right, after all. She points her toes towards the sky and knocks her heels together, dislodging more white fluff. The snow on the ground was nearly at Obi's knees, if she tried walking in this mess it would only pack the snow surrounding her feet to ice.

"Please tell me you are at least wearing stockings," Obi sighs.  
Seriously. Just how stupid was he?  
He should have _known_ better than to try and run from her.

"I _always_ wear stockings to bed. I can't sleep if my feet are cold," Shirayuki retorts, glad for one small victory.

She settles in his arms, giving up on making an escape, then cups her pink fingers in front of her mouth, warming them with her breath, rubbing them briskly together, slowly curling and unfolding and massaging the stiff joints.

Obi watches her movements closely. Her current half–frozen state was his fault too. Granted, running through a snowstorm in one's nightshirt was _not_ the greatest decision, but that's just how she responded to these situations. Miss was fully capable of moving mountains to correct a misunderstanding—she wasn't about to let something as insignificant as proper attire get in her way. _Seriously.  
_ "Do your hands hurt?" he asks, softly.

"A little," she frowns into her fingertips. "—But nothing is frozen!" she quickly reassures him, tucking her hands back into the sleeves of the borrowed coat. It was almost laughable, how big it was on her slender frame. But it was warm, with the residual heat from Ob –

"Obi, aren't you _cold_?" she looks up at him suddenly, concern flooding her features.

He glances down at her face—his eyes immediately lock on the scar and he forces himself to look away.  
"This is nothing, Miss."

"But—" she begins to protest –

– and he hastily cuts her off. "Really, I'll be fine. We're almost there."

"What?" she turns her head and squints through the snow, searching for a landmark, spying the Checkpoint gate. "No we aren't, Scholar's Street is—"

"We're not going to Scholar's Street."


	5. Chapter 5

5

* * *

Ten minutes later, Shirayuki found herself seated before a roaring fire in a small kitchen, bundled head to foot in blankets and wearing another ridiculously large borrowed shirt. But it was soft and dry and _warm_ , and the chill slowly fell from her limbs. She flexes her fingers and toes experimentally. They're stiff, but they move, numbness gradually fading. She had prepared medicines for several frostbite cases recently, and was glad to avoid it herself.  
After ensuring that she was comfortable and beginning to thaw, Obi vanishes into another room to change out of his own snow-soaked clothes. When he emerges a few moments later, clad in dark tunic and slacks, he heads directly for the small stove in the corner, pulling a kettle down from its high perch amongst pots and pans.

Shirayuki burrowed deeper into her blanket cocoon and glanced around. She had never seen where he lived. His room at the Checkpoint was surprising large—a suite of rooms, in fact. Obi's rank as Immediate Knight to the Second Prince of Clairnes came with some perks after all... But between his duties at the Checkpoint and the Night Watch and assisting her, he probably didn't spend much time here. He likely slept more on his favorite sofa at the pharmacy than in his own bed—they had all gotten in the habit of leaving a blanket and a pillow out for him.

The kettle whistled shrilly, and Obi removed it from the stovetop. Shirayuki silently wished that her room at Scholar's Street had a stove. Then she wouldn't have to go all the way to the kitchens whenever she wanted hot water. She watches with some measure of envy as he prepares two cups of tea, then carries them over to the fireplace, offering one to her.

"Mmm. Thank you," she curls her fingers around the cup, sighing as the warmth spread throughout her palms. She puffs at the rising tendrils of steam and takes a slow sip.

Obi stands at her elbow, holding his own steaming cup of tea, watching her closely from the corner of his eye. Her color was improving. No sign of frostbite, and only mild hypothermia. Good, good. That takes care of one problem.

"Miss, how many people saw you running through Lyrias in your bedclothes?"

Shirayuki coughs into her tea. She hadn't even considered that, in her rush to chase after him.  
But even in Lyrias, the rumors, the whispers, the sidelong glances—all trail her every move like the long shadows at sunset. Only here, the greater portion of her fame stemmed from her own work during the outbreak of Olin Maris poisoning and the subsequent quarantine.  
She tries to remember if she passed anyone on the streets. There was a pair of soldiers who definitely saw her, when she darted onto the high path near the Checkpoint, but…  
Then she sneaks a glance at Obi. He's still acting strange. Staring into his tea. Silent. Not his usual talkative smirking self.  
And that was her fault.

Shirayuki sets her tea down on the table beside the chair. Harder than she intended. She jumps a little, at the loud clatter, then composes herself.  
"I— I don't care," she states, simply.

"Miss..." Obi turns to face her, the tiniest hint of a sigh in his tone.

She whirls in the chair to stare up at him. "If you think I should be more worried about tomorrow's gossip then—then what I just did to _you_ , then—" she abruptly trails off.

He places his own untouched cup of tea on the table next to hers.

"...Then what?" he prompts, after a long pause, his face impossible to read.

"...Then, you'd be mistaken," she finishes quietly, returning her guilty gaze to the hands trembling in her lap.

Obi does sigh then, and runs a hand through his wiry hair, eyes drifting once more to the scar. He turns his attention back to the crackling fire.  
"I just want to know what to expect come morning." Smoothing things over with the guards was the very least he could do.

But Shirayuki is adamant. "Don't worry about it, Obi. If there are any problems, I'll handle it myself."

"I worry about these things so you don't have to." The soldiers would surely keep quiet if he asked them to.

"I _said_ I'll handle it," a touch of frustration creeps back into her voice.

"Miss—"

" _Well_ —how many people saw _you_ sneaking me in here?" she demands, recalling how Obi ducked and dodged the Checkpoint's night watch.

"None," he replies, matter-of-fact. And it was true. Obi moved like the wind when he didn't want to be seen—the most one might glimpse was some small sign of his presence long after he was already gone.

Shirayuki curls her fingers one by one around the edge of a blanket, squeezing until her knuckles turn white.

"Helping you is my job," Obi reminds her. And right now she was making it very, _very_ difficult.

"I don't need to be coddled," she mutters, almost under her breath. Why wasn't he _backing off_ already?

"Then don't coddle _me_ , either!" he snaps back.

" _Wh_ —" she stares at him, shocked equally by his words and his tone, "When have I _ever—_ "

"You're doing it _right now_!" he exhales sharply and spins to face her flashing emerald eyes.  
To face the scar.

"What are you _talking about_?" she exclaims, jumping to her feet, standing on her toes, meeting him head on.

"I was there to _protect_ you, and I _failed_!"


	6. Chapter 6

6

* * *

Shirayuki opens her mouth to respond, but no words spring forth. Then the memory of that night washes over her like a plunge into icy water, sending a fresh wave of chills flooding throughout her body. She rocks back onto her heels as her frustration drains away.  
Thinking hard.  
Thinking fast.  
 _Say something, Shirayuki_.  
Hurry up and think of something to say, or else this time he might actually do it.

Obi repeatedly clenches his hands into fists, trying to hide how badly they're shaking. Manages to stay standing, despite his knees threatening to give way. Forces himself to maintain eye contact, even though the scar is right there. Especially since the scar is right there.  
 _Accept the consequences, Obi.  
_ She's been living with the reminder of your failure carved into her face for the better part— _no, the worse part_ —of the past three years.

"I—I messed up," he nearly chokes on the words. " _I'm sorry_."

Shirayuki seizes the opening. "We ALL messed up! You, me, Zen… There's a hundred things we could have— _should have_ done differently!" She'd played though so many different scenarios in her mind, those first few weeks back in Clairnes. What might have made a difference. What might have changed the outcome. What might have prevented it all in the first place. But, did it even matter, in the end? The what-ifs? The might-have-beens?

"You did _everything_ you could, Obi!" This, Shirayuki says with certainty. Because once that chain of events cascaded into motion, the fact that she was rescued at all was a _miracle_.

"I should have done _more_!" Obi insists. He should have checked the perimeter again that night. Should have sealed the doors on the balcony, made them impossible to open from the outside. Should have moved her to a more secure location the moment the letter arrived. Should have immediately called for guards. Shouldn't have let her try and talk to Kazuki. Should have gone directly for a crippling blow.

"You followed as soon as you woke up!" That, Kiki told her about later—how Obi ran down Itoya _on foot_ , tracking him by moonlight. How he used the walnut stone trinket to lead Zen and the others to rendezvous with the Mountain Lions. How he entered the pirate's harbor fortress alone to look for her. How he delivered Kiki to the Talon's ship, so she wouldn't be alone anymore. How he stood between her and that ship full of pirates, so Zen could bring her to safety.  
 _And he honestly thought he should have done more?_

"I shouldn't have gotten distracted in the first place!" He had glanced away for an instant, one _single_ instant, afraid a third assailant was about to enter the room. That was all Itoya needed. The memory of Miss screaming his name as he blacked out and hit the floor _still_ haunted him.

"It was two against one!" How could they have known that Itoya was capable of fighting on even footing with Obi? That Kazuki would drug her? That neither would wait to hear what she had to say?

"That doesn't matter!" Master sent him to Tanbarun, trusting him to protect her even when weapons were not permitted or not available. If he couldn't even manage to do _his job_ properly, then what good _was he_?

"It wasn't your _fault_ , Obi!" Why didn't he _understand_ _?_

"Yes it _was_!" She should _never_ have experienced _any_ of that. Those horrifying things that harden a person's heart. Miss's heart _deserved_ to stay soft and sweet and _kind_.

" _Umihebi_ did this, _not_ you!" Shirayuki jabs a finger at the scar. This. This was why she decided to cover it in the first place. To keep it a secret.

"She should _never_ have gotten the _chance_!" How had Miss _ever_ forgiven him—how could she _possibly_ feel anything but _resentment_ for what he let happen?

"I NEVER BLAMED YOU!" Shirayuki erupts.

And Obi staggers back, alarmed in the face of her sudden fury.

"But, if you want to blame yourself, FINE! _Go ahead_! I can't... I can't stop you." Shirayuki lowers her gaze to the floor, gulping down several mouthfuls of air.

"It's not like _my_ thoughts matter to you."


	7. Chapter 7

7

* * *

Obi blinks, as the words slowly sunk in.

Miss... wasn't upset about the scar?  
Rather, she was angry about what he had said in Tanbarun?

He quickly dug into his memory, searching for that terrifying confrontation. He...had been avoiding her, yes—helping the Lions at the Talon's hideout, patrolling the mountain village's boundaries, something— _anything_ —to serve as a distraction. But Miss sought him out, all the same. She easily found his hiding place, called him down, and—he apologized, for his failure.

She had started to respond, to tell him it wasn't his fault and other nonsense that he really didn't want to hear.  
That he _still_ didn't want to hear.

So he—he had covered her mouth, _physically prevented_ her from speaking, and told her that he would not listen to what she had to say. No matter what she had to say.

Such reckless words. But they were _his_ words. And Obi realized then, how deep they must have cut.

He had done much, _much_ worse than leave a scar on her flesh—he'd left one on her _heart_.

"Miss—"

Shirayuki raises her chin to glare at him—the look silences him instantly—then turns and storms off, only to encounter a wall. So she starts to pace. Back and forth across the length of the room, blanket flaring out behind her like a cloak, whirling on her heel whenever she meets an obstacle, shoulders hunched, hands coiled into fists, entire body trembling with anger—  
And yet still too polite to enter another room without permission.

Obi silently tracks her movements with his eyes, feet rooted firmly to the floor, not even daring to shift his weight. He tried in vain to gather enough nerve to speak again, but it had all fallen through the gaping pit that opened in the bottom of his stomach, pooling in his toes and refusing to budge.

Before long Shirayuki finds herself squarely in front of the door they had both entered through. She pauses. And he wonders, then—if she would open it, and walk out. Not that he'd blame her for doing so. But that thought doesn't prevent his heart from leaping up into his throat, where it threatened to smother him.

After a brief moment that feels far, _far_ longer, she spins again, red hair fanning out behind her, glinting like flame in the light thrown out by the fireplace.

And finally, _finally_ , after what feels like an eon, her movements begin to slow, to show less agitation.

Obi swallows hard, trying to force his heart back down into his chest where it belonged.

"Miss—"

" _Don't_ ," she snaps, " _talk_ to me yet, Obi."

He shuts his mouth and resumes his silent vigil.

* * *

Shirayuki unclenches her fists before folding her arms in front of her, fingertips brushing against her elbows as she continued to pace.  
Stupid, stupid, _stupid_!  
Instead of defusing the situation, she had exploded, and flung _that_ back in this face. It had _hurt_ , absolutely, but she hadn't intended to hurt him back. Well. Intentions be damned, because now she'd _really_ gone and done it. Now it was out in the open, instead of lurking within her chest, coiled up in an angry knot somewhere beside her heart.  
So. What to do about it?

 _Say something, Shirayuki_.

Really, he could be so, _so_ stubborn. But, then again, so could she. So she ceases her relentless pacing, halting before the fireplace, at almost the exact spot from whence she began.  
And there she thinks carefully about what she wants to— _needs to_ —tell him, because the time for hasty and ill-considered words is long past.

" _Sorry_ ," Shirayuki finally begins, her back still to him, arms wrapped tight around herself as she swayed with all the emotion she struggled to contain.  
"But, Obi, when you said that, I—it made me so, _so_ angry..."

Obi swallows again –

"But... more than I was angry, I… I was _scared_."

– and inhales, "Miss—"

"So—" she continues, ignoring his interruption, "—I am sorry, for yelling. And for not telling you sooner. About the scar."

"Miss, plea—"

"Will you _listen_ this time?" Shirayuki rounds on him. She's trembling again, her cheeks flushed red as her hair, but this time it had nothing to do with the cold.

He stops short and slowly nods, resigning himself.

Shirayuki takes several deep breaths, eyes blinking and darting about as she chases down her train of thought. She brushes several stray locks of hair back behind her right ear, and looks up, emerald eyes meeting ocher.

Obi's fingers twitch.

"I know...that I'm reckless, that I charge in without always considering the...the consequences. But, Obi, half the reason I—that I can _do_ that, is because I—I know that you're _here_. That you've got my back."

"B, but, in Tanbarun, when you were acting so strange, I... I was afraid, that you were going t-to _leave_."  
"And I— I... I don't know what to _tell_ you, to convince you to _stay_."

"Nothing."

" _Obi—!_ "

He raises one arm, gestures for her to wait for just a moment.

"You don't," he continues, voice slow and heavy with the effort of it, "have to say _anything_ , because I'm not going _anywhere_."


	8. Chapter 8, Part One

8  
part one

* * *

"Th-that," Shirayuki stammers, "That's, _reassuring_."  
Suddenly, she tips forward, and Obi immediately reaches out to catch her. But she steadies herself first, regaining her balance with a quick half-step, and her forehead brushes against his chest.  
She makes no move to step away.

He freezes.

"Obi... Don't _scare_ me like that," she sighs. Finally. _Finally._ She can _breathe_ again. She takes several moments to do just that. Inhaling slowly. Inhaling deeply. Holding his scent in her nose, in her lungs.  
He wasn't going _anywhere.  
_ _He was going to stay.  
_ And it felt like she was…floating _._ As through she'd suddenly broken through to the surface when she hadn't even realized she'd been drowning.

" _Sorry_ ," Obi exhales, voice barely a whisper. He slowly lowers his arms, shaking his hands slightly in an attempt to to rid his fingers of their endless twitching. To no avail. So he glances down his nose at the head full of red hair resting quietly against his collarbone.  
But he doesn't relax.  
Not yet.

"Um, Miss," Obi begins lightly, hesitantly, half expecting to be cut off once more.

Shirayuki makes a non-committal noise, something halfway between a grunt and a sigh, then clears her throat and replies properly:  
"Yes?"

"Aha, well," Obi continues, fidgeting a little, shuffling his feet and shifting his weight, finally noticing just how tense he really was.  
"Miss, actually... _you_ said that, not me."

"I, _what_?"

"Um. Yeah. I just... Agreed? With it?"  
He cringes in the ensuing silence, wondering if he should have simply accepted all the blame and called it a night.

But.

' _Do my thoughts not matter?_ ' she had asked him, in the forested mountains of Tanbarun.

This misunderstanding, this rift between them, stretched far too long, too wide, already. He owed her his honesty, surely. He probably owed her a whole lot more, but he had to start _somewhere_.

" _Wait_ , you...and then _I..._ " Shirayuki reaches up, digging both hands into her hair and clutching at it, scratching at her scalp, hoping the friction would help jog loose the memory.  
"No...and then..."  
She tugs once again at her rosy locks, then her arms fall limp to her sides.

Obi peers down at her. He can't see her face, but the tips of her ears peeking out from beneath her hair gradually change color to match.

"You... right. You just... repeated, what I said. Um. Wow."

For a moment, neither speaks. Neither moves. Neither breathes. They simply stand, Shirayuki red-faced, Obi still trying to steady his hands. Both conscious of the rapidly shrinking chasm, now only as wide as the gap between their toes.

Then Shirayuki bridges that gap and breaks the silence.

"Oh, Obi, I'm so—"

" _Don't_ —" He pats the top of her head, preventing her from looking up at his face just then, "—worry about it too much, Miss."

"But, _Obi_ —" she protests, into the soft fabric of his shirt.

He gently ruffles her hair in response.

"Ah—there's... plenty of other reckless things that _did_ come out of my mouth, to be angry about."

"...You _do_ say strange things, sometimes…" she admits, with a sigh.


	9. Chapter 8, Part Two

_**A/N :** Thank you, thank you, thank you for all your kind words and feedback! I wasn't expecting anywhere near this kind of response when I started writing this fic, and seeing the new review emails in my inbox really brightens my day. Keep 'em coming!_  
 _Without further ado, here is chapter 8, part two! :D_

* * *

8  
part two

* * *

Shirayuki remains silent for some time, still standing very close, and just—thinking. Pondering over every detail of every thing that had just happened. Every word, every expression, every gesture—so much to process. To think she had yelled at him for something he _didn't even say!_ Granted, there had been plenty of times in the past when his flippant behavior and disregard for anything remotely serious grated on her nerves, but to loose her temper outright? And in a situation like _that—_!

She was simply appalled with herself.  
Normally she took pride in her excellent memory. But. Everything about that trip to Tanbarun had gotten jumbled up inside her head. Scattered stretches remained crystal clear, but the rest blurred together, leaving her with only a vague sense of what had truly occurred.

She'd find a way to make it up to him, though. Some way. Somehow.  
That conclusion reached, Shirayuki nods to herself.

"Eh," the slight motion jolts Obi out of his reverie, and he realizes that his fingers have not left her hair—that they've been combing out tangles and smoothing the stray locks back into place for the past... several minutes, probably. He quickly pulls his hand away and takes a half-step back.  
"...Sorry," he lies.

"Oh. It's fine. I don't mind," she shakes her head lightly, sending red strands fluttering about her shoulders. Truthfully, she hadn't even noticed.  
But she looks up at him now. Resolute.

If he was being honest, he'd admit that the expression on her face just then made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.  
Instead he stood still, much like a deer startled by a flash of light in the dark.  
Now what was he in for?

"Um, Obi?" Shirayuki inquires, "What _were_ you going to say?" When he makes a quizzical noise, she elaborates:  
"When you jumped down out of the tree?"

Obi blinks, slow to react to the sudden shift in the direction of their conversation. When he jumped...? Oh. _Oh.  
_ He scratches at his shoulder – "I…don't know," – and glances down at his toes. "Probably something stupid. Because I'm a huge idiot."

"You _are not—_ "

"I ran off without listening... _That_ was pretty stupid."

"And I ran after you in nothing but my nightgown, so what does that make _me_?" It's not so much a question as a statement of fact.  
Then she sighs, and ventures:  
"You...looked liked you were mad."

"I, I was," he confesses.

"At me?" Shirayuki raises one hand to delicately touch her face, brushing her fingertips against the scar. Feeling it's familiar track across her cheek.  
"Because I thought you were mad at me for keeping it a secret."

And Obi is horrified at the notion that she thought for an _instant_ that he was angry at _her_ and mentally kicks himself for the who-knows-how-manyth time that night. Hadn't Master _warned_ him to be more self aware? That his words and actions had an effect on those around him, whether he intended it or not?  
 _Seriously_!

When the silence begins to stretch once more, Shirayuki softly asks:  
"...Are you going to ignore me?"

"What? No!" He shakes his hands rapidly in front of him. "...No, that'd be..." He trails off and tries briefly to wrap his mind around the idea, but it refused to budge, to even _consider_ it.  
"Please Miss, I'm not _that_ childish."

She makes a scoffing noise then, a short little sound that she quickly stifles.

"Okay, _ok_ _ay_ ," Obi continues to wave his hands for emphasis, "maybe I am but I can't... no. I couldn't do it." He couldn't even _imagine_ it. Giving her the cold shoulder? Ignoring her for hours, for days on end?

To hear her call his name—and not respond? Not answer her at all?  
It would be _torture_.

"Besides, your angry face is scary."  
And since he was not wearing a scarf just then, he hid his grimace behind the back of his hand. It was too scary by far, and he did not want it pointed in his direction again any time soon. Any time _ever._

Shirayuki nods, but that determined expression remained.  
"I know I'm... _pushing_ you, but I—Obi, I need to know that we're on the same page now."

"Miss I'm not even in the same book yet, give me a minute to catch up," he sighs.

Her eyes widen then, just a bit. Was...was that...?  
It _was_ , wasn't it?

Obi rubs at his temples. This was all simply too much for one evening. Too much for one day, even. Probably too much for the entire week.  
To think, that all this time, she had been just as terrified by the thought of his leaving as he had feared a dismissal from his post! But he wasn't sent away. He received a promotion. A promotion he was sure he hadn't deserved, when he saw that scar.

If only there were something more he could have...no.  
It was done, now.  
Long done and over.  
Regrets wouldn't change anything, and neither would guilt.  
But _words..._?  
Words might. _Actions_ might. And maybe...

"Obi?"

"Give me a chance to—"  
He presses harder at his scalp. Seriously, Obi, _think_!

He didn't know how to put the feeling into words. He wasn't sure he had words for it. So he kept apologizing to her. And she was probably just as tired of hearing ' _I'm sorry_ ' as he was. So maybe, just maybe...

"A chance?" Shirayuki inquires, tilting her head to one side. "Is that what you want?"

"I—" A chance...? But that was exactly it, wasn't it?  
 _A chance_.  
"Y, yes," he managed.

"Oh, of _course_ you can have a chance," she hurriedly exclaims. "You can have as many chances as it takes!"

 _As many as it..._? Obi just shakes his head at that.  
"Miss, if I mess up that much please fire me."

"No! Never! I—" her expression tenses again, for only the briefest of moments, because –

"Huh. Well. Maybe I'll just start messing up on purpose, then..." Obi scratches his chin, making an overly dramatic show of pretending to consider the possibilities.

And he's rewarded with a long, exasperated sigh as Shirayuki mutters his name in a very tired, drawn out sort of way. _Seriously_...

Then a loud, rumbling snarl emanates from her stomach, and her hands snap to her waist in a futile attempt to muffle the sound.  
"Obi," she squeaks, embarrassed, "can I borrow your stove?"


	10. Chapter 9

9

* * *

Even after turning his entire kitchen upside down, all Obi had to show for it was a quarter–dozen eggs and half a loaf of day old bread. Or maybe it was two days old, when was the last time he stopped by the bakery stall on Pavilion Street?  
He stares at the meager findings, arms folded across his chest, fingers tapping impatiently, as though the food before him might multiply—or better yet, morph into something more suitable—under his stern unflinching gaze.  
It did neither.

Unfortunately, sneaking down to the soldiers' mess hall was out of the question. There just wasn't enough time to get there and back before the guard changed shifts, and it would be another two hours at least before it cleared out again. But more than that, he didn't want to do anything out of the ordinary. Nothing that would make someone wonder, nothing that would set tongues wagging, nothing that might launch a new rumor.  
And he simply was not in the habit of rummaging around the mess hall cupboards at this hour of the night.

So. Eggs and toast it was, then.

Meanwhile, Shirayuki fetches her damp clothing from the little room Obi first sent her into to change. It was meant for an assistant, or perhaps a squire, furnished only with a simple bed and wardrobe. She carefully arranges her shawl and nightgown on a chair before the kitchen fireplace, to dry properly.  
Then she straightens the blanket about her shoulders, glancing around for something else to occupy herself with.

So Obi suggests she take a look around, at these ridiculous lodgings. Knight or no, he didn't need this much space, had tried to request a more modest room—but apparently anything less was an insult to his Master.  
And once he mentions that there happens to be a room full of books, well. That was that and she was off in search of it.

Shirayuki explores the other rooms, opening doors and peering cautiously inside, then entering for a better look around. This kitchen was the center of things, judging by the number of doors leading off it. There was a large drawing room, complete with luxuriously upholstered furniture and polished tables—for entertaining guests, she supposed.  
Another door leads to a storage closet, and yet another to a room where high-backed chairs surrounded a table strewn with maps and notations in many hands. There was a bath and a large bedroom and that leaves only one more door...

A triumphant ' _ahHA_!' told him exactly when she locates the office and its treasure trove. He smirks and shakes his head, turning his attention back to the cooking.  
Before long Shirayuki returned, clutching a leather-bound volume in her arms.

Of course Miss found a book that'd interest her. He had tried skimming over the spines one stormy day, when he was exceptionally bored, but his eyes glazed over at such titles as 'A Brief History of the Northern Houses volume seventeen' and 'Court Etiquette: 1001 Scenarios You May Encounter and How to Navigate Them with Grace and Tact.'  
He avoided the bookshelves after that.

"What's that?" Obi gestures broadly to the book tucked beneath her arm, " 'Rare Plants of the North volume six?' "

"No, I've already read that one. This is about Lyrias." She holds the tome at arm's length and reads, " 'The Founding of the Great Checkpoint in the North' "

"What volume?" he teases.

"...Nine."

" _Pft_ —" Obi stifles a laugh.

"This one is specifically about Scholar's Street!" Shirayuki informs him matter-of-fact, "Or what eventually became Scholar's Street." She sets the book on the table with a thump and settles into a chair.

Obi thoughtfully nudges the eggs in the skillet.  
"Miss, is there really a 'Rare Plants of the North volume six?' "

"There is, and the series runs all the way to volume nineteen." She opens the book and begins to scan the first few pages.

"...Then how many volumes are in 'Common Plants of the North?' "

"One hundred eighty four," comes the automatic reply.

" _What_!? And you read them _all_? How long did that take?"

"Um," she tilts her head to one side, remembering. "Eight months, I think? I got through most of them last winter. They're actually rather short, that's why there's so many."

Still. Just the thought of it made his head spin. All that reading on top of running the Pharmacy with Little Ryu, _and_ the Olin Maris research? These scholarly types were something else.

"Well," he turns just in time to catch Shirayuki stifle a yawn, "food's ready. I hope you like eggs," he grins.

"Since you made them, I'm sure it'll be delicious." Obi _always_ worked wonders in a kitchen and she enthusiastically digs into her plate.

After the meal, Obi tidies up while Shirayuki buries her nose in 'The Founding.'  
He glances over, while drying the plates—watching her nod off. Her head bobs once, twice, and then she jolts awake, yawning and rubbing at her eyes.

"Tired, Miss? You can have your pick of the beds. The big one is _very_ soft."

"Eh? N-no, I'm fine," she yawns again, flustered.

"Like sleeping on _clouds,_ Miss."

"I'm—going to finish reading this."

Her tone told him further objection was pointless, so Obi silently observes from across the room, as she struggles to stay awake, valiantly fighting her obvious exhaustion, denying sleep like a child determined to stay up past bedtime.  
The book couldn't _possibly_ be that interesting.

Finally, her head droops and she doesn't wake again after a mere handful of moments.

He waits a few minutes more before calling out, soft: "Miss, you'll catch cold if you sleep there."

She mutters something indistinct—though he's fairly certain he caught the phrase 'therapy room'—and tightens her grip on the blanket, resuming her slumber.

Seriously, how many times had he found her slumped over a book, over her research notes, sound asleep? At least she didn't collapse from exhaustion this time.

So Obi very gently gathers her into his arms and carries her to bed.


	11. Chapter 10

10

* * *

Obi jolts upright with a gasp, his senses cutting through a dense fog of restless sleep, struggling to lock on to whatever had snapped him awake. He's certain a noise was responsible—less certain of whether or not he had merely dreamed it. Tossing the blankets aside and immediately thinking better of it, he stills his limbs and waits with bated breath, straining to hear over the pounding of his heart.

The room was quiet.  
Too quiet.

Something was wrong.

He turns to leap out of bed, slamming head first into something solid. Reeling from the blow he lashes out with his fist and pain explodes up his arm to his shoulder. He hisses through clenched teeth and staggers backward tumbling off the bed ducking into roll and crouching near the wardrobe against the opposite wall ready to spring at a moment's notice while the room went silent once more, save for his own haggard breathing.

A wall. He had punched the wall.  
Why was his bed pushed up against a wall?  
Obi shook his throbbing head, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to clear the last clinging tendrils of sleep and dream from his mind.

Ah.  
But this wasn't his bed, was it?  
Miss was sleeping in his room, and so he was sleeping here.  
That's right.  
And this room had no window, no exterior wall—so of course he couldn't hear the familiar lullaby of checkpoint banners snapping in the wind.  
He nods to himself, mentally approving the assessment.

Obi staggers upright, swaying dangerously as the adrenaline rush began to subside. He reaches for the wardrobe to steady himself, wincing as a fresh knot of pain shot up his arm. _Damn_ , his hand hurt. His _head_ hurt. But it would keep until morning.  
He stumbles across the room and falls back into bed, burying his face in the pillow, reaching with his good arm for the hastily discarded quilt. Still, exhausted though he was, he doubted he'd manage any more sleep...

How he _hated_ that dream. Hated how it stretched him thin, how it scraped him raw, how it forced him to relive that night _over_ and _over_ and—

His eyes snap open a second time. There it was again. That little noise!  
Only this time, it was closely followed by a _thud_.

Obi scrambles to his feet and bursts out of the room, tripping over nothing at all in his haste. He slows just enough to announce " _Miss-I'm-coming-in_!" before throwing open the door to the big bedroom.

Shirayuki tears desperately at the blankets tangled around her legs, trapping her where she tumbled off the bed. Obi rushes to her side, grabbing her waist to lift her free of the bed-curtains.  
She shrieks and rams her elbow into his ribs.

The sharp blow forces the air from his lungs, but he just _barely_ manages to not drop her, all while struggling to breathe and evade more flailing limbs.  
An erratic jab nearly catches him square in the eye, and Obi sets her down gently as possible before scrambling backward to get out of the way. A quick glance around the room assures him nothing else is amiss, so he waits—crouched low to the floor, ready to move again if need be, and making a concerted effort to inhale more than a shallow sip of air into his starved lungs.

Shirayuki finally kicks free of the bedding and then—just like that—she abruptly jolts to a stop. And glances down at the blankets trampled into miniature mountain ranges beneath her toes. Then up, at the big four poster bed, with it's canopy curtains askew and even more quilts in varying states of disarray.

"...I fell." She shakes her head, running a hand through her mussed hair.  
And turns, slowly, looking around the room, gradually regaining her bearings. When she spots him, she tilts her head and squints, her confusion evident in her eyes.

"Obi?"

"Wh, what?" he finally croaks.

"Why are...?" she scoots around to face him.

"um, you...bad dream?" he wheezes, voice still hoarse from want of air.

"...Ah." she blinks, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Right."  
Another nightmare. _Great_.

"Yeah? Me too." Obi relaxes somewhat, rolling back on his heels and sitting. The movement jars his aching ribs, and he flinches.

"...I," she starts, then furrows her brow, rubbing at her elbow, remembering something, "...someone grabbed me. In the dream."

"Oh. That, was me. Thought you were...awake."

"What? You mean I—" Shirayuki raises one hand to her mouth, eyes widening in horror, "—I _hit_ you?"

"It's my own, fault, but...where, did you...learn that?" he tries to grin, but it comes out more of a grimace.

"Kiki taught me."

"Miss Kiki." _No wonder_.  
He tries to inhale properly, but the attempt turns into a low gasping hiss.

"But, Obi—I didn't _break_ anything, did I?" she draws closer, worry written all over her pale face.

"No, no," he leans back, clutching at his side. Nothing was broken, _per se_ —cracked, possibly. _Definitely_ bruised. But not _broken_.  
Probably.

"I am so, _so sorry_ —"

"Seriously, Miss, I'll...be fine, just, give me a, chance..." he brushes off her concern with a wave of his hand, "...catch my breath."

"Ah—Obi, you're _bleeding_!" Shirayuki gasps.

"Wh—" he glances at his aching hand, only just noticing the blood scabbing around a split knuckle.  
Then he looks back up at her face.  
"Worry about _yourself_ for _once_!"

"You worry about _your_ self!" she retorts.

"It's—this is nothing!"

"No, it's _not_ , let me see!" she reaches for him, but he evades her grasp.

"This isn't, the first time—!"  
And that was precisely the _wrong_ thing to say–

" _Obi_!"

–now she's even _more_ worried.

"... _All right_ , fine!" he extends his arm, conceding defeat.  
Because not only was Miss stubbornly digging in her heels–  
Fixating on the things around her was one of the ways she avoided dealing with her own worries.


	12. Chapter 11, Part One

**Author Note:** As always, thank you all very much for your feedback! :D

* * *

11  
part one

* * *

"It won't wor— _ow_!"

"Hold still—and of course it will work!"  
Shirayuki gently presses around the goose-egg half concealed by Obi's hairline while he squirms in his seat like a child, emergency medical supplies rescued from storage and laid out on the kitchen table before them.

"No one is going t— _ouch—_ to believe that I _fell,_ " the knight continues his protests and his wriggling.

"Trust me, they will. Especially in this weather." The herbalist studies the lump's highest point, humming low to herself, fingertips' touch featherlight on tender flesh. _This_ would certainly take a while to fade. Had he hit that wall face first, he'd likely have broken his nose, and then she'd really have a bloody mess on her hands. She sighs. Thank goodness for small wonders.

"I—that _hurts_!" he bounces again, to the far side of the chair.

"Then stop— _wiggling_! Quit jumping around, and I'll finish quicker!" Shirayuki paces round his chair, but he scoots back to the other side again, shrinking away. She didn't know _what_ had gotten into him—he behaved himself just fine while she treated his hand.  
Before she had noticed the bump on his head.  
The bump that he had neglected to mention in any way whatsoever.

"You shouldn't be moving so much anyway!" she scolds, planting herself directly behind him, trapping him in place.

Obi huffs, immediately regretting it when the ache in his side blossoms anew. But still.  
Stop squirming? With her hand on his face and her fingers in his hair? _Seriously_?  
His own fingers twitch, jarring the freshly cleaned and bandaged knuckles. He cringes, biting back a pained hiss.

" _Stop_ —" Shirayuki warns a third time, her impatience swelling with his bruised hand.

"I—I am _trying_!" He gasps, and steadies himself.

She nods in approval, resuming her examination. "Don't the other guards tell you to use the normal paths? You've mentioned something like that before, I think."

"Well, _yes_ , but—it's like—" he pauses, searching for an effective comparison, "would you ever confuse _yura_ _akagi_ with _yura_ _shigure_ again?"

"O-of course not!" she reddened, affronted by the very thought.

" _See_? That's what you're asking me to do here." Slip and fall? _Him_?  
Absurd.

Shirayuki gapes and stammers, "W–well, do you have—any _other_ ideas?"

Obi opens his mouth, intending to rattle off an entire litany of possibilities. But every ounce of his wit chose that precise moment to desert him, leaving his mind a total blank.  
He had nothing.  
Nothing that would explain all of this half as elegantly as the solution Miss championed.

So he shut his mouth and shook his head.

"Let's leave that aside for now." She sighs, dropping a hand to her hip. "How's your head feel?"

"It hurts," he mutters, gingerly leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms.

"Sorry—that wasn't..." Shirayuki shakes her head, combing her other hand through her hair, brushing it out of her face and tucking it back behind her ear.  
"I mean _besides_ the pain. Nausea? Ears ringing? Are you dizzy at all?"

He glances up at her concerned face, then averts his gaze.  
"I'm fine."

" _Obi_ —"

"No, no, and of course not. Yes, I can see straight. I know where I am and I'm not confused." He frowns. This entire situation was absurd. Laid low by a dream? _Pathetic_.

"You are, however, _quite_ surly," Shirayuki observes with a sigh, wandering over to the shelves of cookware and selecting a large bowl. "I'm going to get some snow from the balcony. For a cold compress. Do you want anything? A pillow, or a blanket?"

"I can get it myself—" Obi leans forward, preparing to stand.

"No, _you_ are going to _stay._ _T_ _here._ " She shoots him a stern look, and he sinks sheepishly back into the chair. Satisfied that he was, in fact, going to stay put—she turns, disappearing through the doorway.

"And when I get back," her voice echos from the next room, "I want to have a look at your side."


	13. Chapter 11, Part Two

11  
part two

* * *

"Ah, Obi," Shirayuki inquires a short while later, arms full of bowl and snow and blanket, "do you have a water-skin, or a..."  
She stops short in the doorway and peers at him, suddenly suspicious. "...What are you doing?"

"I—think I'm stuck." The shirt muffled the sound of his voice, but not enough to hide the subtle undercurrent of pain. He had tried to pull it off over his head, but the movement jarred his injuries and, well. Here he was—arms tangled up in dark fabric, trapped around his head, looking rather like a fool.  
Feeling rather like one, too.

She hurries over, drops her armload on the table, and carefully frees him. "You could have waited, you know." Shirayuki gives the garment a shake, draping it over the back of a chair. "For me to help you."

Obi gazed steadily at the table, twiddling his thumbs, biting back a snide retort. No, now was absolutely _not_ the time to say _that_.  
"Water bottles are in storage..." he replies instead, helpful. "...the box on the shelf."

"Okay," she sighs, picking up the blanket and tossing it to him. "I'll be right back."

He plucks the blanket out of the air, arranging it around his shoulders. _Oh_ _boy_. Miss was irritated at him. Again. The third time in less than one day, like he was going for some kind of bad record—what did she call it?

Shirayuki returns with the water-skins, and starts filling them with the snow she'd gathered from the balcony. It wasn't ideal, but it would certainly do in a pinch. She didn't exactly have many other alternatives.

Obi watches, while she silently works. "...Sorry," he says after a while; still somewhat sheepish, rubbing absent–mindedly at his shoulder under the soft blanket.

"Hm?" she glances up at him, continuing to stuff the makeshift compresses.

"For being _surly_."

"Th— _t_ _hat's_ —" she reddens, surprised and more than a little guilty. "Well, I don't blame you. Pain has that effect..." She sighs, "I just wish I had a stronger medicine to give you."  
Shirayuki wraps the first of the finished snow–packs in a bit of cloth and lays it gently on his bandaged hand. "How's that feel?"

Obi murmurs with relief as the chill sinks into flesh and bone, chipping the sharpest edge off the ache.

"You're welcome. I made two more, if you need them."

"Actually, I wouldn't mind just laying out on the balcony," he grins, still reveling in cold snowy bliss. "Burrow right under."

She smiles at that. "Maybe later. Can I look at your side now?"

The bruises just starting to bloom across Obi's chest are... breathtaking, to say the least. Several shades of purples and violet, soon mottled with yellows and greens and reds—hues that would only intensify, until his flesh resembled a sickly flower patch.

"Is—are you _sure_ nothing's broken?" Shirayuki inhales, a hissing gasp caught in slow motion, as she cautiously reaches out. Tentative. Hesitant.  
But this time he doesn't shy away from her touch—he scarcely moves at all.

"... _Well_..." he drones, wincing ever so slightly and trying to drag out admitting to anything, " ...it kind of feels like one is maybe a _tiny_ little bit cracked. Did you know that you have very sharp elbows, Miss?"

He doesn't miss the way she flinches.

"... _And_ that was a bad joke. Sorry."

Shirayuki doesn't respond, intent on her work, and silence reigns supreme as she slowly examines each rib under the bruising flesh.  
"Is it this one?" she presses ever so gently at darkest patch of bruise coloring his side.

"Tss, _yeah_ , that's the one," he barely catches the painful gasp between his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to calm his ragged breathing once again.  
When he opens his eyes, she's still frowning at the vibrant bruises, brows knit together.

"It's not your fault, Miss," Obi gently reminds her. "You were only defending yourself."

"That—I _know_ that, but—it doesn't mean I don't feel _bad_ about it, Obi!"

He blinks, but soon recovers:  
"Still, I'm _impressed_. That would have _dropped_ anyone else. I mean, you nearly dropped _me_! I'll have to congratulate Miss Kiki next time we meet." Obi laughs, and then nearly doubles over, clutching at the offending rib.

"...You're moving around too much. _Stop_. Take it easy," Shirayuki mutters, flushing red again. "And...and quit _teasing_..."

"I'm n— _o_ _uch_ —not teasing. I'm serious. Besides, I—" his voice softens, considerably, "I didn't know you acted out your dreams, Miss."

She stiffens, briefly, before reaching for a roll of bandages. "I don't—usually," she admits. "I have medicine for it. Back, in my room..."

"I would have gone and fetched it for you."

Shirayuki looks up, stunned. "Obi, it—the snow's up to my _waist_!"

"It is now," he scratches at his shoulder, "before it was only at my knees."

" _Only_ … _?_ " she echos, incredulous, remembering her own struggle to break a trail. "But, Obi, how would you even—"

"The high paths. Walls. Trees. Rooftops." He shrugs. "I've taken similar routes before."

Miss looks at him like she wants to protest, like she wants _very much_ to protest, to tell him no, that it's too dangerous—but she's making a valiant effort not too. The internal struggle plays out on her face, and in her eyes.

"Just... be careful, all right?" is the answer she finally arrives at. "When you do things like that."

"I will, Miss."


	14. Chapter 11, Part Three

11  
part three

* * *

"You _better not_ sneak out the moment my back is turned."  
Shirayuki lightly wound bandages around Obi's chest, carefully wrapping up the worst of the bruises.

"Oh? Then _you'd_ better not turn your back, Miss," he smirks, ever mischievous.

" _Obi_ —" She glances up from her work, meeting his eye. There's an edge to her tone, albeit a dull one—more tired pleading than sharp command.

"I'm joking, Miss! I'm joking." He does his best to reassure her, but somehow the expression on her face remains unconvinced. "Really! I won't, I _promise_! Cross my heart and—well, you know."

Shirayuki chews at her lower lip—those assertions she'll have to take at face value. He doesn't lie, after all. Even if she can't always tell his truths from his fictions.

"...You're making a funny face, Miss. What's up?" he peers down at her, curious as a kitten, bandaged hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

"Hm, I was just thinking...you're still pretty wild, after all." She shakes her head once, setting red hair all aflutter, and finally resumes with the bandages.

"Huh." Obi tilts his head to one side, pondering at it. "You've called me that before—a wild animal. Guess so." He scratches at the back of his neck, still considering. "...Is that a bad thi—"

Just then something else occurs to him:  
"—but Miss, do you really need it? The medicine?"

And Shirayuki's hands stop, yet again. How was he so very perceptive of all the things she'd rather keep tucked neatly away? But, secrets hadn't exactly worked out the first time around. So she takes a slow breath and steels herself. Or rather, she deliberately un-steels herself.  
"It's...not something I need to take every night. Anymore. Things were just...on my mind."

"Felt it coming."

"Well, yes, and—hey, _wait_ —" The roll of bandages slips between her fingers, because that _definitely_ _wasn't_ a question just now. "—what about _you_? You—" She remembers, what he had said after she finally woke and regained her senses. "— _you_ had a bad dream too?"

She tries to catch his eye once again, but Obi eluded her, suddenly enthralled with some detail in the far corner of the room. Some detail he found mildly distasteful, judging by the set of his jaw.

"You heard me, Obi. I know you did!" Shirayuki insists, at his continued stubborn silence.

But he simply stares at some point beyond her, tapping again at his shoulder.

"And why do you keep— _doing_ that? Did you hurt your _shoulder_ too?"  
Now _that_ certainly caught his ear.

"Eh?" he starts, fixing her with his full attention, "No, this one always hur— _I mean—_ "

Too late.

Shirayuki plants her hands on the arms of the chair, trapping him in place, and leans forward. _Too far forward_ , he thinks, as he studies the flecks of gold in her green eyes.

"And exactly _when_ were you planning to mention _that_?!"

"Um, _I mean_ , it—it's an _old_ break," he tosses his uninjured hand between them, fingers splayed, a half-hearted attempt at a shield. Not nearly enough armor to hide behind. "Never did heal quite right, so it—gets _s_ _ore_ , you know? When I'm not moving or when it's cold out and—"  
And with that, he clamps his mouth shut and glances away, leaning as far back in the chair as his cracked rib allows.  
Because Miss was making _that_ face again, and he wanted nothing more than to bolt from the room.

Shirayuki draws in a slow, measured breath as she takes a step back. Relinquishing her grip on the chair, she moves her hands to her own head, fingertips rubbing slow circles into her temples. Like she was very much done with all of this.  
And he didn't blame her, he hadn't exactly been a gracious patient.

"You _know_ —"

And Obi cringes –

"—I can make a medicine for that." She let her arms fall back to her sides, then stoops, to collect the dropped bandages. The emergency kit had contained nothing for pain. Only an empty vial.  
"You just have to _ask_ , Obi."

He blinks at her with wide eyes, still clutching at his shoulder. " _Really_?"  
The question might have been a silly one, but it came from a place of genuine wonder.

"Yes, _really_. It will just take some experimenting, to find what will work best for you." She's already considering his situation—nothing that caused drowsiness, or dulled the senses. Something that kept working for a long time. Probably something that didn't react with alcohol...

"Huh. But, I'm used it. The pain, I mean."

Shirayuki fights hard to keep from smacking herself right in the face. She manages to curl her fingers around the hem of the long shirt instead. Giving it a squeeze, steadying herself, she slowly turns to face him once more.

"Obi. You don't. Have to. Be. _Used to it_."

"But—"

Shirayuki sinks into a nearby chair with a sigh. "Trust me, there are many, many people who take medicine for many, many reasons. And I've personally worked with several patients who've had, um...concerns, to create something special that wouldn't interfere with...with the things they worried about."

"But that—that's _far_ more work for you, Miss." It wasn't quite a protest, but it was close.  
"I suppose that's true," she admits. "But it's much better for the patient this way." Shirayuki tilts her head and smiles broadly.  
That bright smile that lit up her entire face, like a candle in the night.  
Like a beacon in the dark.

And Obi had to glance away, because she was simply too radiant.  
"I'll...think about it." He taps at the shoulder in question.

She grins again.  
"Besides, this cold weather is hard on more than old injuries, you know!" she hops back to her feet, newly energized, plucking a fresh roll of bandages from the kit.

"Now! Let's finish up, shall we?"


	15. Chapter 11, Part Four

Chapter 11  
part four

* * *

Shirayuki finally wraps up with the bandages and leans back, wiping at her brow. "Well, you're all done."  
She's fashioned a sort of sling, to hold a snow bottle in place at his side, and the rest of his chest is lightly bound.  
"And I know it hurts, but you have to breath normally or you could fall ill."

"I won't, Miss. Fall, that is." Obi examines her handiwork, humming in approval. "It's been a while since I've had such a colorful bruise, though."

"Really?" She's not sure with what frequency he got himself into trouble—he's never been forthcoming on the details of his past, and she had never tried to pry.  
But that didn't mean she wasn't curious.

"Yep!" he grins at her. "Not since that time a horse kicked me!"  
And there's something about the—the _casual_ air of his tone, when he says it, that clashes with the severity of that revelation.  
She's at a loss, how to respond. So instead, she fixes him with _such_ a look.

"I—I got _better_! I also...deserved it," Obi trails off, glancing away. He wasn't sure what to make of this new look. It didn't shake him to the core like her angry glares did, but... It was somehow unnerving—a reminder that reckless bravado was no longer an acceptable course of action.

"Just… Be _careful_ , all right?" Shirayuki stands, to gather up the supplies scattered across the table.

"I can help, Miss," Obi insists, rising to his feet, but she waves him away.

"You need to rest. I'll handle this."

He remains on his toes, tired of sitting still—he never was any good at that—but not sure with what to occupy himself. He spies the leftover snow, half melted, and grabs for the bowl with his uninjured hand.  
"I'll...make more tea?"

"Oh, thank you. That would be nice."

* * *

"Is that the one from the abandoned manor? When you snuck out on us?"

Obi jumps, glancing quickly to his left. Miss stood there, at his side. Studying his arm. Behind her, the table was tidy, supplies nestled back into storage.  
He didn't notice her approach.

" _Ah_ —yeah," he stammers, turning back to the stove. Had Miss Kiki taught her to sneak, as well? Or was he still that out of it? That distracted?  
He was certainly... _aware_ that he'd left his blanket back at the table.

"It's barely visible," Shirayuki continues, oblivious, "if I didn't already know where to look, I wouldn't be able to tell."  
If she'd carried more than rudimentary supplies with her that day, if might not have left a mark at all.

"That's, because _you_ healed that one, Miss." he manages, with a small smile.  
And then his voice turns…distant. Quiet. Aloof. And...something else, that she can't quite place.  
"Unlike, well."

For the story of his life was right there, written plainly, for the entire world to see—spelled out in the marks that criss-cross his flesh, in crooked limbs and creaking joints, in the aches of wounds new and old—echoes of his past, still resonating, within his present.

Scars that told a tale long and painful. But that wasn't the only story Shirayuki saw there. Because it was his _presence_ , the fact that he _stood_ here, next to her—that spoke volumes.  
He was _alive_. He picked himself up and _survived_.  
And so would she.

"I'm sorry. I—I should have _realized_..." she glances at her toes, pushing back the hair that slipped into her face.

"I've had worse, Miss," he reminds her, softly. Ignoring the persistent twitch of his fingers.

"Obi...just because you've...you've lived through _worse,_ doesn't mean..." she struggles, with her thoughts. "It doesn't _mean_ that..." Wrestles with them. "... _that_..."  
Decides to take another approach.

"If, if that's—" she wraps her arms around herself, "—if that's your way of saying _don't worry_ , it's not—it's not _working_ , Obi."  
And somehow this conveys many things at once. Guilt, concern, anxiety... Frustration, tempered by—not pity, but _empath_ _y_.

Shirayuki jumps, then. And lifts her chin, wonder blooming in her eyes. Because while she wasn't paying attention, wasn't looking—he reached out and _touched_ her.  
Touched her face, brushed his fingertips against the scar.  
Her scar.

" _Um_ ," she starts, flighty, "scars...scars are a, a part of the healing process! Medicine can—minimize it, but a lot of injuries leave one, e–even if you can't always see—"

" _Don't_ ," he says, in a pinched tone—an octave too high, like he just barely managed to give the word voice.

And Shirayuki is at a loss, again.

Obi gently traces the scar's path across her cheek. "Don't..." he tries a second time, voice lower. Still straining.

"But Obi, I don't blame—"

" _I know._ I...know. But, I _still_..."

He's silent for a moment, averting his gaze, brows furrowing deep in thought. And then he turns his eyes back to her.

"Miss, _don't_...don't tell me what to think. How to _feel_."

Shirayuki watches him, searches his face, looking for— _something_ , and so they stand, in silence once more.

"...Will you keep covering it?" Obi finally asks.

"I..." the question catches her off guard and she pauses, really considers it. Safeguarding her secret had been one thing, but... After tonight, after everything that happened—could she really just continue the ruse? Pretend that nothing had changed?

"I... for now, I think? People would... _talk_ , if I suddenly wore a scar where yesterday there was none."

But at the same time, that problem was entirely of her own making—she was the one who chose to conceal it.

"Mm."

"Is...is that selfish of me, do you think...?" she shuffles her feet, suddenly nervous.

"Some people are... _uneasy,_ around scars, Miss." He brushes his thumb across hers, as he says it.

"I—it's not that it _bothers_ me—I mean, I've...I don't consider it a _blemish_. And I—I _want_ to wear it, eventually. Out in the open. Like you wear yours."  
She was hesitant at first—but the words, they give her strength, as they tumble forth into reality.

Obi blinks, slowly. Before giving her cheek a playful squeeze.

"...Who else knows, Miss?"

"Ah, Kiki does. And Zen."

"But not Mitsuhide?"

"I...don't think so? He...he would have worried..." Shirayuki glances away, flushing red all over.

" _Well_ ," Obi replies, "he might have figured it out. He's sharper than people think. Not as sharp as Miss Kiki, but..."

"Or my elbow?" she offers, wry.

At that, Obi drops his hand to her arm, hooking his fingers just above the joint in question. He pulls, gently raising the limb to peer at her elbow. A bruise was growing there, just barely beginning to bud, but it was the sort that started to fade again, before the day was done—vanishing completly after three.

* * *

Obi slumps back into his chair, tea in hand. He tries to slouch, to bend and twist into his usual horrid posture, but the rib won't allow it. Pain resurges each time comfort seems within his grasp.  
So he begrudgingly gives in, and yawns.

"Are you tired?" Shirayuki glances over, taking a seat beside him with her own cup.

"Mmmphh...yeah," he scrubs at his face, at his eyes.

"I can read to you," she gestures to the 'The Founding,' banished to the far end of the table to make way for more important matters. " _That_ might put you to sleep."

"More like bore me to tears," he snorts, derisive.

"Then what do you suggest?" she huffs, feigning insult.

Obi smirks.


	16. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

* * *

"Eh?"

Obi stares dumbfounded at the cards Shirayuki arranges in neat arcs on the table before her. He glances back at the mismatched assortment propped against his arm—the singles and pairs that taunt him from their resting place near the snow-stuffed water-skin that eases the ache of his hand.  
Then he looks once again at her perfect little groups of threes and fours.

" _Eeehh_?"

"What? _Another_ terrible hand?" Shirayuki inquires, feigning concern and concealing a smug little grin with a polite sip of tea.

The _same_ smug little grin she's worn for the past half–hour, as she swept the floor with him. Oh, he _thought_ he'd throw the first few rounds, go _easy_ on her—but she knew _exactly_ what she was doing. And while he was slowly, _slowly_ narrowing her lead, he had not yet won a single hand.

" _When_ did you learn to play?" he groans, adding the points to the obscene sum already in his head and handing the cards back across the table. At least this round he'd gotten a chance to ditch the highest–value cards before she won. The last few?  
He _shuddered_.

"Kiki taught me," Shirayuki expertly shuffles the deck and deals another round. "By the way, now you owe me two fruit pies, a chocolate eclair, a bottle of wine, and dinner." She fans out her cards in her hands, tipping her head and smiling oh–so–sweetly. " _And_ it's your turn to wager."

Obi raises an eyebrow, suspicious. Just like Kiki, Miss was ruthless when cards were involved… Maybe in this situation, it was better to play it safe and hedge his bets.  
"...another pastry," he decides, reaching for the new cards.

"Are you going to keep betting pies until you actually win? Because at this rate, you're going to owe me the entire cart."

"I've _already_ brought you an entire cart's worth, Miss. When you were writing the last report."

"And I'm looking forward to another," she grins.

"You..." That statement throws him, slows his retort a little, because _who else_ would look forward to submitting a report? _Scholarly types.  
_ "You can't defeat me forever," is what he settles on, peering intently at his new cards, deciding which matches to pursue, which to discard.

"Oh? You're sure about that, are you?" Shirayuki draws a card from the deck, regarding it briefly before tossing it out.

"It's just the odds, Miss." Obi snatches the discarded four of stars, adding it to a pair of fours already leaning against his arm.  
"Sooner or later, you'll get a bad hand and I'm going to get a good one."

"That _might_ take a while," she thuds a finger onto the high–point card he just dropped, claiming it as her own, "seeing as I've got two and you only have the one."

Obi glances up, blinking. Then his carefully constructed poker face crumbles into a wide toothy grin. "Haha— _ow_ , ow, I walked straight into that, didn't I?"

"Without even _trying_ to evade," she agrees, shaking her head sadly for emphasis.

"Well aren't you—dare I say it— _all over me_ tonight, Milady?"

"And you, Sir Knight, picked this game." Shirayuki discards. "Despite not being particularly good at it."

"No, Master's the one who isn't particularly good," Obi retorts, selecting a new card from the deck. "That's why he'll never bet money."

" _You're_ not betting money," she observes, pointedly.

"Because you'll just take it from me!" He discards, and she grabs it. " _See_?" Obi jabs a finger at her, in mock betrayal. "You're _already_ taking all my cards! I'm going to _keep_ my coins, _thank you very much_!"

"To buy my prizes?" the smug little grin returns.

"I'll be single handedly supporting every pastry stall on Pavilion Street by sunrise, won't I?" He sighs, watching her slowly rearrange the cards in her hand.

"You will at this rate, so you'd better start taking this seriously."

"I'm _always_ serious, Miss."

"About cards?"

"Well, that and...other things," he grins.

"Like fruit pies?" Shirayuki smiles.  
She reveals her hand, full of more perfect little matches.

And Obi squints at the cards, groaning loudly.

 _Seriously._


	17. Epilogue

Epilogue

* * *

" _You_ —!"

Shirayuki stumbles her way into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and still more than half asleep, propping herself up on the back of a chair. " _You snuck out_."

"I _went_ out, Miss, there was no _sneaking_ involved," Obi clarifies, leaning over the stove—cooking the meal that summoned her from slumber.

"That—that's not the _point_ , Obi. You _said_ you _wouldn't_!"

"I was _hungry!_ " he complains, too loud to be taken seriously.

"Then why—why didn't you _wake me up_ first?" she rubs at the corners of her eyes.

" _Miss_. I tried! You threw a _pillow_ at me!" Obi sighs, long suffering. "Well, you flung it in my general direction."

Shirayuki doesn't remember that, but she _did_ trip over a pillow on her way to the door, so.  
"At least leave a note!"

"I _did_!" he protests, gesturing to the table with a spoon.

And Shirayuki glances down, spying the little scrap of paper. She scoops it up, squinting in silence for a few moments before looking back up at him.  
"...I can't read this."

Obi wags his bandaged hand at her. "I tried my best, Miss. _Honest._ "

"You're not ambidextrous?" She blinks.

"Only at knife throwing, Miss."

"Huh." She drops her gaze back to the table, a mess of food stuffs and medical supplies strewn across its surface.  
"I... put these away. I think," she reaches for a roll of bandages, and studies it. "No, I did, because then I _wrecked_ you at cards."

"Miss! Do you _really_ have to rub it _in_?" Obi groans, still too loud. Then he smirks, twisting his shoulders to nod at the table.  
"I got those out so you can wrap up my head."

"You don't need it," Shirayuki replies, placing the bandages back in the kit, "Neither do your ribs, really."

But he taps at his chin with his bandaged hand, like he didn't hear— "And maybe I'll put my arm in a sling… yeah. Should I limp, too?" He grins at her.

"Obi, that—" she peers at him, finally catching on. "That's going overboard. You're getting carried away."

" _Miss_ ," he pouts, "When have I _ever_ gotten carried away?"

She stares at him, impassive expression unchanged. "I'm not going to bandage every inch of you."

And Obi cannot _resist_ making full use of such a perfect opening: " _Oh_? Then what _are_ you going to leave uncovered, Miss?" He winks, for good measure.

Color instantly floods her face. "If—Obi, if I put you in—in a _full body cas_ t, people will—well, they'll _know—_!" She stares down at the table, willing the heat from her cheeks before the next joke lands.

It doesn't. He has no immediate retort, and it's suddenly too quiet—the tiniest pang of anxiety blooms in her stomach. So she sneaks a glance in his direction –

" _Miss_!" he breathes, utterly _elated_.

"Obi, I'm _not_ —" she tries to say it firmly, to find a tone that conveys just how serious she is, but she struggles, because –

Because his entire face _lit up—_ like the sun emerging from behind a mountain, spilling light and warmth down into the valleys below—vanquishing the lingering darkness and shadow.

" _Miss_! I'll go get some _plaster_ and—"

"N- _nooo_!" she squeals, bringing a hand to her face, to cover the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. " _Forget_ —I mean it! _Obi_! Forget I said that!"

" _Too late_!" he guffaws –

"I'm—I'm putting my foot down! I'm putting _both_ of them down!" Shirayuki stamps her feet, trying hard not to giggle.

And Obi just _howls_ with laughter, before slumping heavily against the wall with a groan.

" _Ahhh_ … no need to worry about my breathing, at least..." He gives his side a gentle pat.

"Nice hair, by the way." he grins at her, straightening himself.

"Ah." Shirayuki brings both hands to her head, feeling all the bumps and snarls. This always happened when she forgot to braid her hair before bed...

She sighs. "I don't suppose you have a comb?" she inquires, hopeful.

"Sorry, Miss. Never needed one," Obi scrubs a hand through his own wiry locks, scratching at the back of his neck.

"But, you slept well?" he asks, cautious. "Any dreams?"

"Nothing bad," she threads her fingers into the tangled mess, carefully separating the strands.

"Sweet ones, then?" he turns back to the cooking.

"Mmm. I was... at a recital. Or a play?" she muses, working through her hair. "Well, there was singing."

"Really? Was it any good?"

"I wonder..." She teases apart a particularly stubborn knot before slowly brushing it out.  
"Well, I'll let you know next time."

* * *

 _end_

* * *

 **Author Note:** And so we've finally made it to the end! Hooray! Thank you everyone for reading, for faving, and for leaving reviews—some of you have followed along since the beginning, and that honestly blows my mind.

Writing this fic was a challenge, albeit a fun one—wrestling all the pieces into place and watching everything slowly come together. I've definitely learned a lot from it, and I hope you all enjoyed reading as much as I did writing!

As always, let me know what you think! :)


End file.
